Page 64 of What a Wolf Demands

“Because of me,” she whispered. She gripped Dom’s arm. “We have to get him out of here.”

Overhead, booted footsteps thudded across the floor.

In one movement, Dom grabbed her wrist, pulled her to the stairs, and lifted her onto the bottom step.

Panic made her heart flutter.

He seized her shoulders and brought her face close to his. Speaking in a low rush, he said, “Stay here and don’t move. They’ll kill you, Lily. Understand?”

She gave a jerky nod.

Somewhere above them, a door handle rattled.

Stay here, he mouthed, his expression fierce. Then he was gone, moving so quickly a rush of cool air washed over her.

A door squealed open, and light flooded the basement. Heavy footsteps thundered down wooden steps.

She pressed her back flat against the stone, her heart beating so fast she felt light-headed. She squeezed her eyes shut.

Luc Thibeaux’s voice had them flying back open again.

“Whaddaya say we check on our honored guest, eh, boys?” More booted feet, then the sound of heavy breathing. The scent of rain drifted through the musty space.

“Sounds good,” a second, lower voice replied.

“Christ,” Luc said, accompanied by a shuffling sound. “It’s as wet as your sister out there.”

A man guffawed, followed by more shuffling and what sounded like someone slapping another person on the back.

Lily held her breath, her body tuned toward the exchange. Luc had said “sister.” There was only one male in Bon Rêve with a female sibling. Which meant one of the wolves in the basement had to be Bruno Hebert—a Tracker.

And she was sweating like crazy, throwing off scent for him to pick up. She looked up the stone steps, which had become her only escape route. The stairs were so steep she couldn’t see the wooden door. There was no way she could navigate the dark, treacherous ascent without making noise.

“Shut your mouth about my sister,” a man’s voice growled. Lily had only met Bruno a handful of times, but it sounded like him.

“Or what?” Luc taunted.

“Or I’ll shut it for you.”

The men fell silent. Lily held her breath. If they started fighting, it would give her the cover she needed to make a run for it. But that meant leaving Dom and Bart behind. She couldn’t do that. No matter how much danger she was in, she wasn’t going to abandon them to whatever horrors Luc and his companions had in mind.

Suddenly, Luc let out a burst of laughter. The sound made the hairs on her nape stand up. She’d heard that laugh a thousand times before as she’d served him drinks or wiped down the bar. Somehow, she’d never noticed the undercurrent of insanity flowing just beneath the surface.

Or maybe she had, and she just hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it. The mind could overlook a lot when it wanted to protect itself. She’d learned that much over the past five years. Sometimes, spending too long in survival mode meant embracing trauma rather than confronting it and moving past it.

“Aww, come on, Bruno,” Luc said. “Don’t be that way. Take a joke, d’accord?” All right.

“Yeah, come on, man.” This from Paul Guyon, the Tracker who’d accompanied Luc when he confronted Dom at the hotel.

Lily’s heart sank. If Guyon was in the basement, he knew about Bart—and what had been done to him. As the son of Bon Rêve’s mayor, he had the Alpha’s ear. Did that mean Levesque knew about Bart, too? If he did, the Louisiana Alpha had condoned the torture of an innocent wolf. That was a crime across all sixty territories. If the other Alphas learned of it, Levesque stood to be tried and executed.

Bruno spoke in a mumble. “Whatever, assholes. Let’s just get this over with. I’m starving.”

Anger rose hot in Lily’s gut. He wanted them to hurry because he was hungry. Never mind that they’d blinded Bart and then tied him up like an animal.

There was more shuffling of boots on stone, followed by the jangle of what had to be keys. After a few seconds, a loud metal squeal let her know someone had opened the cell door. Her stomach clenched. What did they mean by “checking” on Bart?

“Bonjou, Bartholomew,” Luc said, using the Cajun slang for “good morning.” He spoke in a singsong voice that did nothing to hide the malice in his tone.

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